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MY LUSITANIA MEMORIAL) 

BY 

SOL. L. LONG 
w 
(four generations an American) 



COPYRIGHT 1915, BY SOL. L. LONG 



^ 



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FOREWORD. 

The war in Europe is but another phase of the history- 
old — world-old — contest as to which is to be paramount 
— the creator or the creature — man, or the work of his 
hands — the individual or the State. 

Regardless of all that may be said — even their own 
explanation — the Allies, in essence, stand for the principle 
that ALL, from the least to the greatest, have brought 
about that which is called "civilization" and that the de- 
velopment of the same depends upon ALL. 

The Prussian ideal, which opposes that of the Allies, 
is one which rests upon the saying of Pilat-e: "What I have 
written I have written," and if change be made it must only 
be upon the word, whim, caprice, of one man. 

The chief analogy we have to the Prussian ideal, in 
this country, is the blind worship of "precedent" in legal 
circles. 

Blind worship — any worship — of "precedent" has its 
roots in the Baltic bogs; from whence came the Prussian to 
excite the world's pity and tolerance by reason of his stu- 
pidity and through such excitation 'vin to "Pity's Eminence" 
— -an eminence which is of grace — not merit nor desert. 

It is one of the strange and unexplainable matters of 
history that the Prussian has won to any eminence what- 
ever; save and except along menial lines. 

His stolidness — his stupidity — his Chauvanistic buf- 
foonery — -his egoism — his utter lack of an appreciation of 
relative values, mental or material, should have precluded 
him from any sort of recognition, along any line of human 
action or endeavor, by any outside his own class. 

Perhaps the explanation of the recognition he has 
obtained lies in that, in the reaction from the 1 6th century, 
paganized, theology, the crass materialism of the Prussian 
offered (seemingly) a soft place to light. 

Prussian ideals are as dangerous to democracy as fire 
is to a powder mill. 

Take our own country, and wherever Prussian ideals 
have been at all, or, approximately, in the ascendency, the 
community has died ethically; the municipality has been 
corrupted commercially and the State has been debauched 
politically. 

Ethnologically no one knows where the Prussian be- 
longs. Ethically he is just as much of a mystery. That he 
is neither pure Teuton, nor pure Slav is evident. The 

—1— 



theory that he has a Mongolian strain in him would be 
acceptable to anyone who has a low regard for Mongolians. 
Having a high regard for the Mongols 1 cannot accept this 
theory. My opinion is that the Prussian is siu generis. In 
view of his peculiar ideals and mental trend I cannot, as to 
him, accept the theological or the Darwinian theory. 

1 will be accused of insulting some of my fellow citi- 
zens and be told of the "admirable thrift" of those same 
citizens. To such accusers I will say that, as an offset to 
"admirable thrift" 1 place the "delectable" Prussian brew- 
ery system of our country; the "desirable and frugal" Prus- 
sianized distilleries; which dominate and corrupt the politics 
of all our northern states and the "admirable" saloon system 
that curses our municipalities, north and south. 

For every penny we have gained by reason of "Prus- 
sian thrift" we have paid out ONE DOLLAR, in cash, and 
lost millions of manhood and womanhood; by reason of 
the Prussian ideal, which is the bulwark of the liquor and 
saloon interests of this country. 

Look over a list of names of persons attending a liquor 

dealers' convention go down the street of your own town 

and read the names on the saloon windows and then tell 
me I am biased or prejudiced — if you have the nerve to 
do so. 

The Prussianized breweries and saloons of this country 
would be sufficient to call for a more severe indictment of 
the Prussian ideal than language can convey; but, person- 
ally, 1 must add to it murdered Belgium and the dastardly 
assassination of two of my best friends, Elbert and Alice 
Hubbard, who went down on the ill fated Lusitania. 

After all, Providence seems to have a confirmed habit 
of looking after the affairs of men and of taking a hand 
when their strength and wisdom fails. When this present 
war is over and Prussia and her ideals are relegated to 
the a justly deserved oblivion, Prussians will have plenty of 
time to set down and revise and add copious footnotes to 

their self esteem and it is to be hoped that the revised 

edition of "Prussian Gall and Effrontery" will be read on 
this side of the water, as well as learned by rote on the 
other side. 

SOL L. LONG. 

2 I 20 Troost Avenue, ^25 

Kansas City, Mo. M 

July 17, 1915. 

2 

©CI.A408827 

•6 S9S5 



N. B. 1 have dated and placed the matter herein in 

the order of its production. I have placed them thus be- 
cause I wanted to and for the further reason that any 
reader, who has so much as been vaccinated with Prus- 
sianism, may read them and not get brain congestion. One 
on whom Prussian vaccination has taken would not under- 
stand any sort of explanation therefore none is given for 

this class of insects. 



GOIN' TO A CLEANIN'. 



She is goin' to a cleanin' and she needs it, for she's dirty. 

She is goin' to a cleanin' that swelled-up "Fadderland." 

She's been a-biddin' for it, for years nigh onto thirty, 
And she's surely goin' to it, to the music of the band! 

She's goin' to a cleanin', and the Frank, and Slav, and 

Briton. 
Will give her all her "needin's" — they have long been 

overdue. 
She'll wish she had remained at home, attending to her 

knittin', 
Her weiniewurst and saurkraut, her cheese and "special 

brew." 

She is goin' to a cleanin', as another vindication 
Of the old, but truthful, saying: "Pride goes before a fall," 
And when the wash is on the line the entire German nation 
Will have received a treatment for a large, ingrowing gall. 

She is goin' to a cleanin', with her stolid, sulled, effrontery, 

She is goin' to a cleanin', with her chauvanistic boasts; 

And there'll soon be rambling round, in that super-heated 
country, 

Some "hock der Kaiser" immigrants some bran new Ger- 
man ghosts. 

Alton, 111., Aug. 6-14. 
(Midnight.) 



WAR NEWS. 



"I am for war!" said the Austrian king, 

And the Servian monarch said: "Just the thing!" 

Said William, the bluffer: "I'm on der ving, 

To smash dose Parley Voos. 

Been vaitin' for dis, mein happy chance, 

To gallop mein army ridt into France, 



Undt make dose sons of frog eaters dance, 
'Till dey vear oudt all deir shoes." 

Then the Austrian king got into the game, 

And the Servian monarch did the same, 

And he with the Hohenzollern name 

Said to the Baggage-man: 

"Voke up here, Hans, undt lissen to me; . 

Sheck dose suidt cases to gay Paree; 

For 1 goes meinself to dose town, you see, 

To hung on der French der can 

The Austrian king got over the line 

And the Servian monarch said: "You are mine!' 

But Bill kept hiking down the Rhine, 

On his way to gay Paree 

But if ever he reaches his coveted goal, 
It will be as a disembodied soul, 
And "steen" hours after the last bells toll 
Sundown in Eternity. 

Alton, 111., Aug. 6-14. 
(Midnight.) 



THE BELGIANS ARE STARVING— WHY? 

(After reading a placard bearing the legend: "The 
Belgians Are Starving.") 
It is not the coin of a wasteling's wage; 
Nor the sheaf of a slothful hand: 
It is not a misspent youth's old age, 
Nor the spite of a sullen land. 
Their land has given no miser dole 
And kind has been their sky; 
Yet, the bells of famine toll and toll, 
For the starving Belgians — why? 

It is not because they had won the smiles 

Of the harlot of gain and greed; 

For she still tents, down the east-spun miles, 

With the pack of the were-wolf breed. 

As the honest live they have lived their lives; 

That they might, like the honest, die; 

But they, and their children, and their wives, 

And their old, are starving — why? 

-4— 



It is not that their backs are 'gainst the sea; 
Nor that their defense, unplanned, 
Will give them place in history 

As the largest little land! 

A parchment hedge is a sorry shield 
With an alien, whose national lie 
Is a pride of home and a boast afield — 
And the Belgians are starving why? 

Buffalo, N. Y., to Boston Mass. 
Nov. 18, '14. 



THE CRISIS CALL. 



(On reading a placard bearing the legend: "Your King 

and Country Calls You.") 
Your King and Country call you; once again must hearts 

of oak 
Bulwark the van of progress, as they've bulwarked in the 

past; 

Lest our body of ideals on the vandal's wheel be broke 

Lest our fair sky of achievement be a century overcast. 

Your King and Country call you; for the stolid tribes are up 
There's a cry of: "Heart of England!" in the forests of 

the north. 
The gray wolf pack is loping aye, the were-wolves wait 

to sup 
On civilization's carcass; should the Lion be driven forth. 



Your King and Country call you; whatsoever is of worth 
In the fabric of this living; every good and wholesome 

thing; 
Every mile post which attests the British march around 

the Earth; 
In this crisis of the ages is your Country and your King. 

On Grand Trunk Ry. between 
Montreal and 1 oronto, Can. 
Tuesday, Nov. 24th, 1914. 
Car Mauston. 



REACHING FOR HIS GOAT. 

Our vaunted civilization has shown itself to be 
A thin cloak for the jungle-man— which same is you and me. 
We get our ideas second hand; our ethics come by rote 
And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 

We've all been on peace dress parade, but have, in this 

good year, . 

Cold storaged our hypocrisy; tore off our thin veneer, 
And mobilized our armies; put our battleships afloat — 
And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 

With half baked schemes for stopping war we've filled the 
magazines, , 

And mouthed of; "Human Brotherhood —whatever that 
phrase means. 

But all has been for increase of the guinea, or the groat— 

And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 

This breeding and maturing cannon food, we find to be 

As near divine as doing like for mine or factory— 

The hum of peace is kin to growls from out the war dog s 

throat 

And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 

Not only reaching for it, but we'll get it, for 'tis in 
The scheme of life that blood must pay the penalty for sin. 
If Darwin errs not Prussians descended through the stoat 
And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 

Kansas City, Mo. 
January 28, 1915. 



LUSITANIA. 



Up from the depths, on the Last Great Day, 
Will come, with a challenge, a vast array; 

A nation must answer what will it say 

Lusitania? 

More than a thousand, sea raped of life 

By the jackal ideal that kindled the strife 

Innocent babe, and mother, and wife, 
Lusitania ! 

Veneered in their huckster's ideal and till; 
But their ruthlessness and their lust to kill 
Proclaim them the Goth and the Vandal still, 
Lusitania ! 

—6— 



That their national soul is the soul of a lout, 
Whose head is as weak as his sinews are stout, 
Is proven by lives that the waves washed out, 
Lusitania ! 

When they of their stupid effrontery are shorn; 
When their pride filched vestments are from them 
E'en Charity, weeping, will give them scorn, 
Lusitania ! 

Henceforth and for aye, through Eternity, 
When a trade mark is wanted for "perfidy" 
And her brood, the word will be, "Germany." 
Lusitania ! 

Kansas City, Mo. 
May 13, 1915. 



THE CRY OF THE SOULLESS. 

"Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" this the incessant cry; 

From the market place and the altar stair; 
From the mob that eddies by. 

"Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" at history a jeer; 

The sesame of the stupid tribes, 
Whose gods are Fraud and Fear. 

Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" — and men have heard the 

same 
Wild cry, from the nether pits of hell, 
Since Satan had a name. 

The Shibboleth of the vulture; the urge of the jackals skulk; 
The fiat law of the unkempt brains 
Which measure worth by bulk. 

"Quantity! Quantity! Quantity" massive of tool and toy; 

Of pillar; of house; of fashionings; 

Of instinct; of things which cloy. 

Culture's beggars on horseback; crass to remote degree; 

Crude, with the jungle's crudeness 

And an ooze bred density. 

"Quantity" of science, and "quantity" of skill; 
The midnight lamp and the daylight sweat 
For greater power to kill! 

Crying for harder sinews not for the old world's good, 

But that they may reap and rape, with the scythe 
Of a stronger cannon food! 

—7— 



"Efficiency of endeavor!" — the sky concealing rut 

In which the grandsons of the swamps 

Delight to parade and strut; 

And nurse bastard ideals, as the bottle is nursed by the sot. 

And as the Alieut to a daughter's bed, 

So they to the couch of thought. 

"Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" — despite the eternal 

scheme 
The guttral tongue keeps mouthing forth 
Its Alexandrian dream! 

"Quantity" of empire — stern rule of the vague abstract; 
The "Me undt Gott," in theory; 
The "Me undt naught else" in fact. 

Kansas City, Mo. 
June 1 6th. 1915. 



THE SPAWN OF THE SWAMPS. 

Reason enough, when the earth was young, for the swamp 

and its ooze born brood; 
When the acts of men from the outside sprung and their 

thought was crass and crude; 
But the reason fails with the inside urge and the wider and 

widening 3ky, 
And the swamp must vanish; its ooze-born scourge must, 

as it passes, die. 

The sensual spawn of the Baltic bogs, 

Whose ethnological name 
Is shrouded as much in mystery as the swamps from whence 

they came; 
Have cried, in Chauvanistic glee, their slogan of the fen; 

Their thrice presumptious blasphemy 

That they should rank as men. 

Without the outer eye of the brute 

Or the inner eye of men; 
With everything above the ooze beyond their stolid ken; 
Sans even the shadow of an ideal, from mists miasmal 
wrung; 

With urge of life as dense and coarse 

As the croak of their gutteral tongue. 

They have fed their greed, with assassin hands, 
In forums where law was lame; 



For e'en the clink of a copper coin they have sown and 

reaped with Shame 
And nursed their otter's morals in the lap of a Lascar brain; 

And measured life, in a maudlin way, 

By physical pleasure and pain. 

The world has borne with them and their lack. 
Much as the Cave-man bore, 
In his half-blood penitential way, with the vermin that vexed 

him sore. 
And the Cave-man died, ere he had learned that which the 
stars attest, 

That the reason for vermin life must die 
At the birth of a reason for rest. 

Reason enough, when the earth was young, for the swamp 

and its ooze born brood; 
When the acts of men from the outside sprung and their 

thought was crass and crude; 
But the reason fails with the inside urge and the wider and 

widening sky. 
And the swamp must vanish; its ooze-born scourge must, 

as it passes, die. 

Big Four Train, 

St. Louis, Mo., to Indianapolis, Ind. 

June 16, 1915. 



LABOR LOST. 



Teach them honor? the suggestion is a staring idocy; 

When applied to any people who are sans capacity 
And impervious to instruction and, in stolid density, 
Willing to wear chains and shackels — if some Kaiser so 
decree. 

Teach them tenderness and pity? — first convince us that 
you can 

Teach the gray wolf, mad with hunger, to walk upright 
like a man; 

Recognizing right and reason; bowing to the humane plan 

Which holds greed impelled marauding underneath a flex- 
less ban. 

Teach what strong men know by instinct? — just as well 
might you essay, 

—9— 



By intent, to broaden out the narrowed foreheads of 

Cathay ! 
Or attempt a debt to Satan by abandoned slag dumps pay; 
Or, with printed page and precept, lure the tiger from his 

prey. 

Teach them perfidy so shameless that 'twould lift the dastard 

souls. 
For this crime sent to Perdition, to a place on Heaven's 

rolls? 
This were bringing caste to India; this to Newcastle were 

coals; 
Fish fin lustre to the diamond; evening shadows unto moles. 

Kansas City, Mo. 
June 26th, 1915. 



STRAFEOPHOBIA. 



(The school children of Germany are being taught to 
say: "Gott strafe England!" Press Item.) 

"Gott strafe England!" Why just England? Why not go 

down the line 
And "strafe" every tribe and nation save the stupid o'er 

the Rhine? 
And their megalomaniac master; drunken with the thought 

that he 
Owns the earth and has as vassal earth's Creator, Deity! 

"Gott strafe" the perfume of flowers; aye, "Gott strafe" 
the zephyr's breath; 

"Gott strafe" all that men have fashioned, save the instru- 
ments of death 

And the things that give these greater power, more 
effectiveness. 

In their holocaust of murder, gendering a world-distress. 

"Gott strafe" every code of honor which the ages have 

evolved! 
"Gott strafe" every present problem which cannot by arms 

be solved! 
"Gott strafe" all the Covenant nations which think "scraps 

of paper" count 

"Jah, Gott strafe der ten commandments undt der Sermon 

on der Mount!" 

—10— 



"Gott strafe" mothers, young or aged, mothers evil, mothers 

good, 
Who dare think conceiving, bearing, nursing, nurturing, 

cannon-food 
Is not woman's highest privilege "Gott strafe" all fathers 

who 
Will not furnish flesh of sons to make a "Kaiser Wilhelm 

Stew." 

"Gott strafe" all the ages progress, by all other nations 

prized ! 
"Gott strafe" every land and people who will not be 

Prussianized ! 
"Gott strafe" Mercy "Gott strafe" Pity; 'till they fester 

sore and rot 

"Undt uf Gott dondt do our biddings, den may Gott strafe 

Gott." 
Field's, Kansas City, Mo. 
July 9th, 1915. 



EVEN SATAN- 



The Germ-Hun proffered a stately ship; 
But his Satanic Majesty curled his lip. 

"1 give the men a chance," he said 

And the Germ-Hun never dropped his head 
For he did not understand! 

"Vy dond't you dake it?" the Germ-Hun inquired, 
And the Devil countered, visibly fired: 
"1 give the women a chance, do you?" 
And the Germ-Hun, stupidly, closer drew, 
For he did not understand! 

"It's der Lusitania," the Germ-Hun said; 

But the Devil, by this time, was seeing red 

"I give the babies Oh, you compel 

The establishment of a rival hell!" 

And the Germ-Hun understood! 
Kansas City, Mo. 
July 11, 1915. 



THE ABDICATION OF SATAN. 

"My Lords, and Gentlemen, you are convened 
On matter weighty. Here to look upon 
The most collossal failure of all time. 
And, in familiar words but new coined phrase, 
Be told what made that failure absolute. 

-11- 



"1 pray you be not swift to entertain 
That half-wit brother of Despair and Doubt 
By questioning: 'Is it I?' or yet lend wings 
Unto Conjecture, sexless child of Fear, 
By wondering: 'Is it he or he or he?' 

"Be patient with me as I now review 

The past; to of the present make you ware.". 

"Well have you served me, and I render thanks 
For all that service, and 'tis in my heart 
To spare you by deceiving; but some dim. 
Faint stain of honor still is on my soul; 
This same has ever kept me back from that 
Which, had I followed and o'erta'en, would have 
Spared me the sorrow of this present hour." 

"My Lords, you each were with me at that hour 
When, balked of my ambition to be first 
Among the good, I chose to be Premier 
Of evil. Chose that precarious greatness which 
Rests on applause of others, or their fear." 

"My Lords, you followed me; not fate compelled 

Nor willy-nilly led. You had your chance 

To follow or remain. You chose to join 

Your fortunes unto mine, for which free act 

You have my gratitude. Let it be known 

That, though I strove for evil's eminence, 

I did my striving as a gentleman; 

And that the sole mark of a gentleman 

Is recognition of a benefit; 

Real or intangible it matters not." 

"My Gentlemen; from out all walks of life, 

Terrestial, you have come and if you have 

Regrets, the justice which remains in you 

(As lurks the stains of honor on my soul) 

Will give me quittance; as to unfair play. 

You likewise had your chance. 'Twas you who chose 

Not I, and you will testify I ne'er 

Was guilty of campaigning underseas!" 

"My Lords, and Gentlemen, look on your leige, 
And let me have one last salute from you 
Before I lay aside my iron crown 
To wander hence — before my name becomes 

—12— 



A synonym for failure; which proves that 
Contact with Honor; e'en some primer tale 
Of Honor; renders him who suffers it 
Incapable of reaching premiership 
In ruthless evil and iniquity. 

"I might have scaped this hour had I sojourned 

More in the Baltic bogs — not given o'er 

Their surveillance to a lieutenant; who 

Could not see menace to his Master's realm 

In exaltation of stupidity. 

A sad lieutenant; one who failed to sense 

That speech of fiber is indicative! 

And stolidness, if touched by Ego's wand, 

That which would speed to such excess as would 

Make me half human — cause my centuries 

Of despite to seem blessings, and thereby 
Tear Fear's old cloaking from my dreaded name; 
Give me compassion; show me less the Fiend 
Than some who, down among the Baltic bogs, 
Through some mischance of nature, filched the form 
Of man; but failed to loot the treasury 
Of attributes. And therefore nature filled 
The vacuum with a crass stupidity 
And power of fatuity beyond 
The marking of degrees. This led them to 
Exalt that abstract thing, the State, above 
The State's creator, and by doing this 
Make Hell less to be feared — preferable." 

"Whereas upon abstract abstraction rests 

The Prussian ideal, which, logically, 

Must murder nations, as in Belgium's case; 

(Despite a solemn pledge of guardianship) 

Hide schooled assassins in the sea and send 

Men, women, children, to their death without 

Such chance as ever I accorded them; 

It follows I have been, and am in fact, 

A tyro in iniquity. Therefore 

My crown is bootless burden on my brow." 

"Let it be said of me, that never have 

I levied tribute on a helpless foe 

Who fought but in defense. Had one of you, 

Or all, brought hither man or woman shade, 

Without plain profert of chance to escape, 

Or brought a soul of mother, or of babe, 

(E'en though you plead a thousand chances given) 

I should have burned you into nothingness!" 

--13— 



"Yet, chanceless, Prussia's schooled assassins tear 

Men, women, children, ruthlessly from life I 

And while they do it shame humanity 

By claiming kinship and, thereby, that they 

Remission and forgiveness may obtain I 

If so then Hell may yet redeem herself 

And rank a sister State to Paradise — 

Hell's dread and desperate denizens yet hear 

The psalms of Heaven, from inside its walls!" 

"My Lords, and Gentlemen, I take my crown 

And cast it on the slag; for that I am 

No longer paramount in fiendishnessl 

My trident scepter after it I throw 

And as they ring a metal's sharp farewell 

Unto their Master, 1 disown them both 

And of Hell abdicate sovereignity!" 

"Each for himself! Hell is disrupted! I 
An exile and the scepter passes to 
The Prussian drunken with stupidity!" 

Kansas City, Mo. 
July 13, 1915. 



THERE'S A REASON. 



Had they a brain proportionate to their large and lucious 
gall; 

There would be some sense to their jester's cry of: "Ger- 
many Over All." 

Had they their fatuity catalogued or even card indexed 

There would be less reason for the world to be so sore 
perplexed. 

Had they less the soul of the Jungle-man and the dispo- 
sition of hogs; 

There would be some safety in letting them dwell outside 
the Baltic bogs. 

If they were less a culture tube for marauding germ of 
the Hun; 

There would be less call for the rest of the world to 
carry a gatling gun! 

But had they never have been at all the world would never 
have known 

—14- 



Of the extreme end of the limit which lies, far out, in the 

twilight zone 
Of super-abundant cussedness; and murder for greed; and 

rapine 
Of the wolfish sort; which has its rise in a genius for being 
mean. 

Kansas City, Mo. 
July 16, 1915. 



HANDS ACROSS THE SEA. 

There is no cant, no foolishness, in "Hands Across the Sea;" 
Proven by an unsentryed, fortless, far-flung boundary 

Twixt Britain's daughter's domain and our own democracy 

Our State; which were not possible had Britain failed to be. 

The "Rights of Man" for which we stand; for which we 

sweat and toil; 
Where'er their fronds may rise their roots are deep in 

British soil. 

Bearing the sword of Liberty we're mindful of its foil 

Behind the urge accomplished lies the first anointing oil. 

Hence, there is more than empty phrase in, "Hands Across 

the Sea." 

It rests on law immutable law of affinity. 

And, until Nature's order change, law of heredity, 
Transmitting an Ideal, will keep our "Hands Across the 

Sea." 

Kansas City, Mo. 
July 17, 1915. 



—15— 



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